


Nightfall and Daybreak

by IfIDiedYoungWouldYouNotice



Category: Sherlock (TV), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Dragonlock, Farmer Boy John, Friends to Lovers, I suck at adding tags, Johnlock - Freeform, Johnlock Smut, Love, M/M, Prince Sherlock, Romance, Smauglock, Smut, Top John Watson, fairytale, oh well, please enjoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-16
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 16:59:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2780795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IfIDiedYoungWouldYouNotice/pseuds/IfIDiedYoungWouldYouNotice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is a prince locked away in a tower. John being a curious farmer boy, decides to approach the lonely man, hoping to be friends. Yet, a dark secret keeps Sherlock from confessing his love to his friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

OKAY SO THIS IS GOING TO BE A BIT OF A LONG CHAPTER, INTRODUCING CHARACTERS AND SUCH! ANYWAYS I'M SORRY, BUT PLEASE ENJOY AND LEAVE ME ANY COMMENTS! NOW PROCEED!  
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Once upon a time, in a far away kingdom. There lived a prince, a prince who was locked away in the tallest tower. A tower so tall, it reached to the heavens and seemed to go beyond the clouds.

The prince, who looked down at the world, did nothing all day. He moped around the tower, yelling out 'Bored!' every now and then. He sat on his windowsill, the tower having only one giant window that lit up the place. As he sat there looking at the world painted in front of him, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of loneliness from within him. He held in his hands a violin, which he always played, day and night. For hours, for days, whenever he could, he played his instrument.

When the night would come, and the stars shined brightly over the kingdom, the prince would play his violin. The bow going across the strings brought out a melody that showed how sorrowful the prince was, and he would play to the heavens, to anyone who would listen. Slowly moving around his tower, violin in hands, melodies seeping from his fingers, he would play. When he would finish a piece, he would look sadly out of his window, before whispering a single word that described his life. 'Bored'.

One night, the prince who rarely gets visitors, got one from a man he calls 'Graham' every now and then. Due to him never learning his real name, which was Greg. Greg was a commander in the Queen's Army, yet whenever they needed a bit of help, they would come to the prince. His massive intellect would allow him to see the world in a different perspective, rather than just as a dull, boring place.

"Lestrade," the prince sighed out, his baritone voice breaking the silence. He was sitting on his windowsill, legs dangling over the edge. He didn't look over to Lestrade, as he knew only three people every visited him. His older brother, his house-maid, and Lestrade.

"Your Majesty," Lestrade greeted. He was coming up from the floorboards, a hidden passage was hidden within the tower, and was the only way in and out, besides the window.

"Just call me Sherlock," he replied sounding bored. Sherlock heard Lestrade's footsteps stop about 10 feet away from him, and Sherlock's mind began to work. "I am assuming you're in a rush? I mean I never get visits from you unless you can't figure something out, which is basically all the time. This would be I think, the 28th time you came to me for help? Ah, but who's counting?" Sherlock turned his attention to Lestrade, his face holding a smirk.

"I'm not here to ask for help, i'm here because I brought your month supply of food. Oh, also. Apparently you haven't written him a letter in over a week." Lestrade said. Sherlock looked him up a down quickly, noting how worn his features looked. He had salt and pepper colored hair, and stubble was showing. He wore the colors of the country, a white a black robe, with a steel helmet he was holding under his arms.

"If Mycroft is so worried, why would he send you? And not come himself? Ah! Must be because he doesn't want to have a heart attack climbing up those stairs. Would be a shame to have a corpse smelling up the place." Sherlock quipped, causing Lestrade to wince at his words and to look away to his feet.

"No," Lestrade began, his voice low," he just has his hands full with the other kingdoms. If he wasn't concerned he wouldn't make me come here every month, and he wouldn't have put you in this tower." Sherlock groaned in boredom, suddenly uninterested in this conversation.

"Right, well anyways. It's late, and you have my food for the next month. Please just leave all of it in the kitchen, Mrs. Hudson will sort through it tomorrow when she comes over." Sherlock waved his hand toward the kitchen as he turned away from Lestrade, glancing out of his window real quick. And without another word, Sherlock went upstairs and fell onto his bed, the plush blankets and pillows enveloping him.

It wasn't until Sherlock heard the stopping of footsteps, men whispering, boxes being set down roughly, and the secret door being shut, is when he began to drift to sleep. His breath slowly getting softer as he drifted asleep.

"Oh, you daft boy." Sherlock heard, a high pitched whisper of a frail old woman. He felt his blankets being pulled over his body, warmth surrounding his body. "Always sleeps with no blankets, he could catch a cold!" She whispered to herself, tucking in the blanket around Sherlock's sides. When he heard Mrs. Hudson close the door to his room, and her footsteps were heard downstairs, he threw off the blanket. Turning over onto his side he was met with a grey brick wall, the room lit dimly with candles.

Sherlock wanted to throw something, his boredom overcoming his sleep. Sherlock sat up, still staring at the wall.

"Bored!" He yelled out very loudly, hearing a crash from downstairs.

"Sherlock! You rude little boy!" She yelled out, causing Sherlock to smile to himself. He got up and stretched, ruffling his dark curls of hair with his hands. He exited his room, creeping downstairs he noted that his window was shut. The tower was lit up with candles, Sherlock scanned around for Mrs. Hudson who was shuffling about in the kitchen.

"Ah Hudders, here to what's it called? Ah, 'babysit' me." He said, Mrs. Hudson looked over her shoulder. She was cutting vegetables and had the stove on, a pan with meat was sizzling, cooking in candlelight. The tower was always lit with candles, and Sherlock wondered where they all kept coming from, but then found that thinking about it was too boring.

"Oh Sherlock, I am not your babysitter, or you housekeeper. I am here to see how you're doing and if you've burned down the tower, also to see if you're still alive." She huffed out, turning her attention back to the food.

"I think that's the meaning of babysitter, and I would assume you cleaning up the experiment I had in that pan, means you may as well be my housekeeper." Sherlock said as-a-matter-of-factly. Mrs. Hudson just shook her head, muttering something along the lines of 'just cause he's a prince...thinks he can get away with anything.'

As usual the day was suppose to be boring for Sherlock, as he sat on his windowsill. But, as he sat there, violin in his hands. He noticed someone snooping around his tower, the vines on the side rustling about. He was about to shout down something, until he saw a figure appear from the side of the tower. He had never seen this person before, the young man having sandy brown hair and seemed to have a nice build. Which was hidden by tattered and dirty, brown and beige colored farmers boy clothes. Sherlock couldn't see any of his features, him being up too high in the , he could make out a slight limp the man had. As the man looked up to the window, Sherlock felt his heart stop.

He couldn't explain how he was feeling, but the minute the mans eyes looked up to him, he felt excitement. The other males eyes were a dark brown, but when the light hit them just right, it was as though they got lighter. Sherlock noted the strong chin, the look of adventure in his eyes, and the confident look he had. From the distance Sherlock was at, he couldn't help but want to get a closer look at the man below.

"E-excuse me!" The man yelled to Sherlock, who didn't notice his gaze following the man who was now standing a bit in front of the tower, head looking up to Sherlock. Sherlock snapped his attention to the man, his eyes squinting a bit against the light of day.

"How long was I asleep?" Sherlock muttered to himself, looking at his violin.

"Sir?" The man yelled up, trying to get Sherlock's attention. Sherlock snapped his attention back to the fellow below.

"What?" Sherlock snapped unintentionally, the man just smiling up to him.

"Are you okay? I thought this tower was abandoned, but I suppose I was wrong…" The man looked up in awe of Sherlock, as though he were a never before seen creature.

"Well your skills of deduction are slow, because apparently it isn't abandoned." He yelled down, causing the other male to smile brightly. Sherlock heard Mrs. Hudson shuffle behind him, and felt her peer over his shoulder.

"Who are you talking to Sherlock?" She asked, Sherlock casted her a quick glance, then back at the man below.

"A farmer who appears to have interest in my tower," he answered. Mrs. Hudson gaped at him.

"Well what does he want?" She croaked, her voice a bit uneasy.

"I don't know everything!" He hissed out, looking at the farmer. His face was full of amusement, as he watched the domestic which was playing out in front of him.

"Having a quarrel with someone?" He yelled up, his smile never leaving his face.

"Actually yes. My housekeeper feels you may be wanting to rob us, because we have so many riches locked away in this tower!" Sherlock added enthusiasm to his sarcasm, drawing out a chuckle from the farmer below. "Care to take a look? I mean, there is just so much richness here!" Sherlock couldn't help himself, he smiled as he overly dramatized. Mrs. Hudson smacked his arm, and went back to doing whatever she was doing.

"If you're being serious, then yes! I would love to see what has been hidden away in this tower." He beamed up to Sherlock, his right hand resting on the tower allowing him to lean on it. His smile shined brightly in the light, and Sherlock couldn't help but feel as though he knew this man for the longest time.

"Sherlock." The prince yelled down, making the farmer give him a puzzling look. "That's my name. Sherlock." He said.

"John. John Watson,'' the farmer replied.

"Well John, would you like to have a tour of this tower?" Sherlock asked, making John's eyes light up like the sun.

"I would!" He replied eagerly, making Sherlock smile. He didn't know why, but he found John interesting. He wanted to see why the man smiled widely, why he always looked happy, and why Sherlock wanted to get a deeper understanding of the simple man.

"There's a secret door hidden behind those vines you were looking at earlier, and then about 2,000 steps up to the tower." He shouted down, John's eyes lighting up with excitement. He looked where Sherlock had told him, and quickly moved away the vines. He saw a great big brown oak door, circular in shape, and had a brass knob in the center of it.

John pushed the door open easily, as though it were made of nothing. He was welcomed with darkness, and a musty smell of damp earth. The light from the outside world dimly lit up the bottom of the tower as he looked around, the stairs starting to his right, winding up. John felt a bit of uneasiness as he saw how high the the tower really was, but pushed the feeling away.

John began making his way up the stone steps, but quickly tuned back to close the door. To his surprise it was already shut, making John squint at the door suspiciously. Licking his lips quickly, he then turned his attention back to the steps, and began his journey up them.

Sherlock paced about his tower impatiently, calculating how John should've already been up here.

"Sherlock...I don't think this is a good idea," Mrs. Hudson said from up the stairs. Sherlock waved his hand in the air, dismissing her input.

"I have this under control… Besides I can't be the only one who gets bored…" He said, Mrs. Hudson descending the creaking steps.

"Well dear, I hope you having this 'under control' doesn't result in anything bad." Her voice was soft, her eyes looking at the floor. She was fumbling with her nails, and Sherlock felt her uneasiness. Sherlock was staring at the door in the floor, biting his nails, waiting. Waiting to see how interesting John really was, waiting to see if Sherlock could make his life more interesting also.

Sherlock smiled wickedly when he saw the door slowly open up, John poking his head up from the floorboards. He heard Mrs. Hudson gasp next to him, and quickly turned to her. John slowly crept into the tower, gawking at his surroundings.

"Now, Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock whispered. Mrs. Hudson tore her gaze away from John, and met Sherlock's eyes. "Don't you think you should leave now? Nothing left for you to do, right?" Sherlock asked, his eyes clear with his want of her leaving. She stood stunned for a few seconds, contemplating about what to do next. And then, she plastered a fake smile onto her face, turning to John who was currently looking at a mural of angels above their heads.

"That's right dear, I should take my leave! Nice to meet you dear." She bowed her head a bit to John, who in returned tore his gaze away, and did the same.

"You too ma'am." He replied, and stepped out of the way as Mrs. Hudson scurried about. When she finally left with the door closing above her, Sherlock and John were left in the tower. Alone.

Sherlock turned to John, who was glancing all around the tower, drinking in the scenery. His sandy brown hair against his tanned skin, his brown eyes full of curiosity and wonder. Sherlock drank up John's image, and noted the way John stood. He heard John whisper things like 'beautiful' and 'fantastic' every now then, making Sherlock smile.

"It's beautiful is it?" Sherlock asked, making John jump at his baritone voice. His brown eyes flicked to Sherlock's blue ones, the endless blue seemingly hypnotizing him.

"Yes," he whispered looking back at Sherlock," absolutely stunning." John didn't realize he technically flirted with Sherlock, and when he did he became as red as a tomato. Sherlock tried not to laugh at John's attempt of flirting, so he just smiled at the smaller man before him.

"Would you like to sit? Seems we've been standing for quite some time, and i'm pretty sure your leg is hurting right?" Sherlock began to lead John toward the window, and gestured for John to sit in a plush red arm chair. Sherlock grabbed his violin from the windowsill, glancing out quickly before making his way to sit across from John.

"Thank you." John suddenly said, making Sherlock glance up with his eyebrows knitted together. "For allowing me to see what your tower looks like from the inside I mean." Sherlock smiled, and John felt his heart skip a beat.

"I never met someone who thanked me for allowing them up here...Then again, I hardly meet any people." Sherlock eyes his bow, which was in his lap. He noticed his violin had also caught the attention of John, who was curiously looking at his instrument. "Would you like me to play for you?" Sherlock asked, and John's eyes flicked up to meet his.

"Can you?" John asked, making Sherlock smile. Without anymore words exchanged, Sherlock brought up his violin to his chin, and slowly closed his eyes. He was sitting still, and then slowly brought up his bow. He began to play a soft tune, like a lullaby, which then turned into a hauntingly melody. As the song progressed, John couldn't help but feel his heart feel heavy, the music making him feel as though Sherlock was playing his heart out to him. John stared at Sherlock with sadness in his eyes, the music becoming more dark with each passing note.

The soft dark melody ended with Sherlock drawing out the last soft note, making John sit there stunned. When Sherlock opened his eyes, John could've sworn he saw a hint of gold in them. But dismissed it as the lighting of the sun, his thoughts going back to the melody.

"That...was amazing." John breathed out, his eyes shimmering with tears. He wasn't going to cry, but Sherlock knew he wanted to.

"I seemed to have brought tears to your eyes.." Sherlock said sadly, making John gasp out.

"I-I'm sorry!" John apologized, making Sherlock look down at his violin. "That was just so beautiful...So amazing." John praised, making Sherlock gape at him.

"You really think so?" Sherlock questioned, his eyes scanning John's expression for lies.

"Yes!" John assured,"That was absolutely fantastic." John cleared his throat, and leaned back in the armchair. "M-may I heard another one?" He asked, making Sherlock beam brightly.

"Of course." The prince responded, his voice a low rumble. John trying to not show his shiver from listening to it, as he sat there ready for another piece.

So there they sat, John listening to Sherlock play piece after piece of melodies. Some were dark and sorrowful, beautifully written. Others were slow, peaceful and carefully written. And as the sun set over the horizon, John and Sherlock had lost track of time. Words were exchanged, conversations after each piece made no room for awkward silence. They learned much about each other, even though they asked a handful of questions.

John was in the latest war against a rivaling kingdom, wounded in his shoulder, and sent back with a limp no one could cure. He said he was a doctor, but had to become a farmer for the sake of his family. Sherlock had guessed he had a sister to whom he didn't agree with, and went on with explaining how he knew that. Of course John found the deduction of his pocket watch amazing, and Sherlock admitted to knowing everything about John within 5 seconds of seeing him. That of course made John go silent, but then he smiled at Sherlock.

"You're brilliant aren't you?" He asked, making Sherlock blush had put his violin away, and had shut the window, darkness somewhat enveloping the tower. By now, the sun was down, and they lit a few candles creating a low dim in the tower. Neither wanting the conversation to end, they found other things to talk about.

John found Sherlock fascinating, and that was the only word that could describe him at this moment. Sherlock had told him he has lived in this tower for quite some time, but yet would not get into detail about why. Sherlock gave John this mysterious vibe, but yet John saw past that. Seeing only a man who wants a friend, a man who needs a friend. They both would laugh at dumb jokes, or when the other said something witty. Both getting comfortable around the other, as though they were the best of friends, they got a bit closer. The pushing of their chairs a bit closer, which then led to Sherlock suggesting they sit at the windowsill.

As he pushed the window open, John looked up at the night sky. Gray clouds covered the sky, and bright stars shone through every now and then. The moon peeked through every now and then, its crescent shape making John gasp. For some odd reason, John has never seen anything quite as beautiful as this scenery. He never got to spend time away of the farm, but today he could.

Today was a quiet day, as always for John Watson. He did his chores as usual, and then he listened to his sister ramble on about her lover. John knew she was gay, but he accepted her, not caring. She was his sister, his older sister. The only one in the world, and he accepted her. He finished everything early, like always, but today he wanted to explore the tower that was in the distance. He thought it was abandoned, and he wanted to see the view from up there, to think. He always saw the tower while he worked the farm, and envisioned himself at the top, looking down at the world. He never saw anyone go in or out of the tower, but it was always hidden behind the tall green trees. He sometimes saw the window at the very top open, but hoped it was just the wind pushing it open, and then pushing it closed. Either way, John always wanted to visit the tall tower, and today he decided he would do that.

John never expected to have met such an interesting human, and he never would have expected him to be locked away in this tower. He also never expected the man to have raven black curls, and ocean blue eyes, but who noticed those? As John kept thinking about Sherlock, and the tower he couldn't help but wonder. It still bugged John as to why Sherlock was here, but he didn't know how to ask Sherlock.

"John?" Sherlock's deep voice broke John's thoughts, and he quickly blinked. They were both sitting with their legs dangling over the window, a small breeze tickling John's face.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" John asked sheepishly, his face becoming a tad red with embarrassment. Sherlock stared at him for a second or two, and John noticed his lips twitch up a bit.

"I was just asking if you were okay, and if you wanted to sat a bit longer." Sherlock said the last part as a whisper, he didn't know why, but he wanted to keep talking to John.

John hadn't realized how long he was gone, the whole sun going down seemed like it happened just seconds ago. Yet, the moon was high behind the clouds, showing it was later than he expected. John sighed, and Sherlock knew his answer. John was going to go, and Sherlock felt oddly weird about that. He felt like he knew much more about the former doctor, yet John felt like he needed to know more about Sherlock.

"Before you go," Sherlock said, his head looking up to the starry sky. "Will you visit me again?" The shadows created against his features sharpened them, and made his cheekbones look sharper than they were. His skin seemed pale, and his blue eyes seemed to have a gold tint to them. John felt himself staring too intensely, and looked away flustered. Sherlock wasn't looking at him, but John felt he was smirking.

"I have much I still need to learn about you, so yes. I will continue to visit." John smiled down at his hands, and watched as his legs dangled and swayed in the air.

When John left the tower, the familiar sound of the secret door locking behind him. Sherlock couldn't help but feel the silence of his tower unbearable, and decided to play a song. He looked out of his open window, violin and bow in his hands, looking at the small shadow of John half limped and walked away through the field of grass. Before he could reach the tall forest of trees, John heard a familiar melody of sorrow and loneliness. Yet, for some odd reason, it made John happy. Happy that he could hear the song as he walked back to his farm life, back to his agonizingly boring life. The stories Sherlock had told him, and the small laughs they shared together replayed in his mind. When John saw the small farm he called his house, he couldn't help but think back to Sherlock's tower. The paintings all along the walls, the mural of angels upon the ceiling which caught his eye, and the space which the tower had. John felt a pang of jealousy, yet ignored it as quickly as it came.

As he slept in his cot that night, the moon hidden behind the trees. John wondered if Sherlock was asleep, and the more he thought the faster his sleep came.

Sherlock didn't sleep that night, instead he played his violin in his room. The candles slowly burning out, and Sherlock's mind still reliving the time he spent with John. The memory singed into his mind, the senses he felt, the smell of work on John's skin, the slightest limp he had, his fairly tanned skin, and the gleam of interest in his brown eyes. Sherlock felt oddly possessive of John suddenly, wanting to feel more, to control more of John. By now, Sherlock was no longer playing his violin, instead he was sprawled out on his bed, blankly staring up at the ceiling.

"Bored!" He shouted out, his baritone voice seeming deeper. Yet of course no response, just silence and the darkness as the last of the candles slowly died out.


	2. Nightless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John are still friends. Sherlock's dark secret comes to surface.

Days passed, then weeks, and then months. Half a year, and John had officially become Sherlock's best friend and vice versa. John always visited Sherlock after he was done with his chores, or anything else his sister asked of him. Sherlock didn't mind how late, or early John came to visit, as long as they got to spend time with each other. The visits would consist of Sherlock playing his violin, John listening to Mrs. Hudson complain about Sherlock being impossible, or when it was quiet, they would talk. Neither really thought common conversation was necessary, but they used it as an excuse to be in one anothers company.

Over the months John had been allowed to come and go from the tower whenever, yet there were days when Sherlock would ask John not to visit the following day. John didn't question it at first, thinking it was because Sherlock wanted some alone time. Then, John saw a pattern. It was almost every month, when a new moon would occur. John didn't know what it meant, but it somehow bugged him.

"Every new moon?" John whispered to himself. He and Sherlock were laying on the floor, and Sherlock had passed out next to him reading a book. John couldn't help but stare at him, his features relaxed, his hair looking like silk against his skin, and his cheekbones beautifully sharp. Sherlock would sometimes pass out while John was around, and John didn't mind. Sometimes Sherlock wouldn't sleep for days, and it worried John. But Sherlock would see no problem in it, saying that sleeping was ;boring' or 'dull'. John smiled at the memory of all those times Sherlock would say the word 'bored', watching as the other man slept.

John hoped Sherlock wouldn't find his watching him creepy, but Sherlock seldom found things weird. Sherlock twitched slightly, his fingers moving, as though they were playing his violin. John was laying on his back against the fur blanket Sherlock had set down for them, just watching as the other man slept. John caught himself staring at Sherlock's slightly parted lips, the cupid's bow in a perfect pink color against his skin. The window was slightly open, and the afternoon rays of light hit the back of Sherlock's figure, making it look like he was glowing.

"Why every new moon? What do you do? Leave the tower? No...you think the outside world is 'boring'." John had grown accustom to Sherlock calling people and the outside world boring, even though he has never left the tower. He had also grown used to Sherlock showing how smart he was, by criticizing Mrs. Hudson whenever she came to check on him.

"Having a row with the baker down your street, are we Mrs. Hudson? How is he by the way? Is his wife back from her travels?" Sherlock's deep voice was a bit on edge, as though he wanted to. No, he needed to deduce something. John remembers Sherlock explaining how his mind works, and all John really remembers is Sherlock explaining it was like a machine, a restless machine. John couldn't help but feel a bit sad, knowing that Sherlock was not a metaphorical machine. Sherlock said he couldn't handle human emotions, so he hid them away in his 'mind palace', burying them deep in his thoughts.

John sighed at the memory, his eyes wandering up and down the body of the male in front of him. Over these past months John had learned a bit about Sherlock, his constant use of the word 'bored'. His reason for making so many experiments, (One to gross out Mrs. Hudson, and just for entertainment) and most importantly John had learned he had a few enemies out in the world. Sherlock called one in particular his 'archenemy', which deeply concerned John. John had never heard of anyone having an archenemy, but this was Sherlock he was talking about.

John moved a bit closer to Sherlock, feeling the 3 feet separating them too big. John was glad Sherlock was passed out next to him, so he wouldn't see John blushing like a girl. He felt his pulse quicken as he moved his body a bit closer to Sherlock, and soon John was close enough to feel Sherlock's breath on his lips. John had always looked at Sherlock as very special, be it his ingenious persona or John's lack of friends. Yet, something stuck out to John. The odd beauty Sherlock possessed, made John think he were the most beautiful creature

The raven black curls that sometimes covered his bluish green eyes, making John's breath catch in his chest. The fair pale skin that covered his tall figure, making John have unnatural thoughts. John wanting to kiss and caress his skin, to feel his against Sherlock's. Their bodies entangled in one anothers, the soft pants of breath, the exchange of heated kisses, the soft whispers of love.

He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard Sherlock stir from his sleep, causing John to close his eyes and pretend he had fallen asleep.

Sherlock had awoken next to a sleeping John, or a 'pretending-to-be-asleep' John. He cracked a smile, something he only does when he's around the former doctor. Sherlock was still laying on his side, John so close to him. No one but John has been this close to him, and it gave Sherlock a sense of peace and happiness. For some odd reason, everything about this farmer boy made Sherlock happy. His small size, his courage that has yet to be shown to Sherlock, his way of life basically. Sherlock cursed his mind for already telling him everything about him, but that's what made him interesting. John accepted Sherlock, even when Sherlock he didn't think he deserved it.

He felt as though John could have found a better person to call 'bestfriend', someone besides Sherlock. Sherlock felt as though he were betraying John, and his friendship. Sherlock wanted John in his life, but not as a friend. As something much more, as something only one word can describe. Lover.

He wanted to hold John, wanted to make him moan out his name, to make him cry for more. Sherlock felt his imagination go vivid with these thoughts, something that has been happening from the first time they met. He felt overjoyed when John came to visit, and felt his chest tighten when he had to see John disappear behind the trees.

Yet, it wasn't just for the sake of their friendship holding Sherlock back, it wasn't because John was all he had. It was because Sherlock hadn't told John everything. The reason as to why he asked John no to come over on a full moon, the reason why he never told John why he was locked in this tower. The reason as to why John doesn't know his full name, and yet he didn't really seem to push any questions about it.

Sherlock sat up, his hand brushing against John's, making Sherlock shiver in pleasure. He didn't understand the whole thing about being lovers, but as long as John was his and his alone, he didn't really care. He looked down at the 'sleeping' John, his features relaxed against the blanket. John was breathing slowly while Sherlock sat there next to him, so Sherlock knew John had passed out.

"John," Sherlock whispered. He knew John had to leave soon, since tomorrow would be a new moon. "John." Sherlock said again, this time nudging him with his hand.

"I have to leave...don't I?" John whispered, his eyes still closed.

"I'm afraid so." Sherlock replied, glancing around the tower quickly. The sun was no longer in the sky, now hidden behind the tall trees as the day was ending.

"Sherlock…" John said, while he sat up. His hair was flat on the side he was laying on, and his brown eyes were shining. Sherlock stared at John, and watched a he licked his lips every now and then.

"You're going to ask why I have you not visit every full moon, aren't you?" Sherlock asked, his gaze lowering to John's hands. They were a bit dirty from his day of working the farm, the soil in his fingernails showing a bit.

"I know I may not get a good answer...or no answer at all, but I would still like to know. I mean, we spend all of our time together every day...except for when it's a new moon...Can't you tell me why?" John's voice was soft, and Sherlock knew that John was nervous about the answer. So, he decided to give John an answer. The truth? Not even close, but a good excuse...

"Every month, my brother comes to visit. To give me a monthly supply of food. Reason I do not want you over, is because Mycroft; my older brother, is unbearable to be around. Believe me when I tell you that." Sherlock smiled a bit at John, and John returned it.

"Sherlock," John said, his eyebrows knitted together," what is your last name? I mean..I feel like i've heard your name...and your brother's…" Sherlock's smile faded a bit, and John gasped in response. "Holmes. Your last name is Holmes...isn't it? As...As in Prince Sherlock Holmes?" John whispered, causing Sherlock to look away from John. (Dramatic music anyone?)

"Yes." By now Sherlock and John were standing, facing each other. Sherlock was towering over John as they stood there, staring at each other.

"Bloody hell Sherlock, why didn't you tell me before? I mean, we're best friends for pete's sake! Why didn't you tell me?" John asked, making Sherlock look away.

"I didn't think my title was important. And because I..I don't want to be your friend, John." Sherlock mumbled, making John tense at his words.

"Oh…" John said, his hands clenched," I see. I suppose you got bored of being friends with a dimwit like me, right?" John's voice was strained and sounded tense, anger Sherlock deduced.

"John, let me finish my sentence…" The prince said, stepping a bit closer to the smaller male. John stiffened as Sherlock approached him, but stood his ground. "I don't want to be your friend..because I have different types of feeling towards you...I have never felt this before John, this feeling." Sherlock scoffed and ran a hand through his hair, his face was giving John raw emotion. Confusion, fear, and most of all something that made John's heart thump in his chest, the emotion of want.

"Love, Sherlock. That's what it's called. Love…" Sherlock flinched at the word, and John couldn't help but smile. "You claim to love me, but you're afraid of the word…" Sherlock was silent, but he was clenching his jaw. John sighed, and ran a hand over his face. "I suppose I should be going, don't want you to strain over this." And with those last words, John made his way to the secret door.

Before he could get it open, Sherlock pulled at John's arm spinning him around. Before he could even form a word, Sherlock was holding John against him. Their lips pressed against each other, sharing a may have seemed short, but for both of the men, it felt like hours. The prince separated from the former doctor, both panting against each other's lips. Their foreheads were touching, eyes closed, the only sound was their breathing.

"John. I may not know much about love," Sherlock started," but I do know that I want you to be happy. I want you to be happy with me." Sherlock opened his eyes, and met John's brown ones. John was beaming brightly, his cheeks red with embarrassment.

"Are you proposing to me, Prince Holmes?" John emphasized the title of Sherlock's name, making Sherlock smile.

"I am actually." He said in response, making John chuckle lightly.

"Well, I will accept that proposal." John replied, making Sherlock blush. Sharing one last kiss, he left the tower. Left Sherlock, who watched as John disappeared into the trees (not before waving and staring up at the tower for a few seconds).

That night John couldn't sleep as he laid in his cot looking out of his dirty window, neither could Sherlock. Or rather Sherlock was not able to sleep, due to him shedding his lied about tomorrow, because the truth was far much worse than his brother.

Midnight. Always midnight. Sherlock had barely made it outside of his tower, his breathing hard, face covered in sweat. He would crawl out of his skin, yelling in agony as his body grew, bones breaking and stretching within him. Red scales covering his body, his screams becoming deeper and irregular. When he was done changing, he was as tall as the tower. His red scales glistened like rubies in the night, his claws were as long as spears, his teeth as sharp as swords. His nostrils were billowing out smoke as he breathed deeply, his forked tongue slipping between his lips every now and then. He had a long face, his eyes glowing a bright yellow, and his pupils were slits.

'Sherlock' flew into the night, his wings unfolding and stretching out. His wings would cut through the trees, their edges as hard as steel.

"I am fire…" He said in his deep grainy voice," I..am...Death."


	3. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth comes out

John was stunned as he stood behind the trees, watching as his best friend suddenly changed into a bloody dragon in front of him. John felt his legs shaking in front of him, as he leaned against a tree for support. He has never seen anything like that, and he would never be able to unsee it. When 'Sherlock' was no where in sight, John stepped out from the trees, looking lost and dazed.

"Sherlock.." John whispered to himself, he sat in the grass, staring up into the night.

John couldn't sleep that night, the kiss replaying in his mind. He felt his cheeks flush red, and soon he decided to get some fresh air. Pulling a wool brown coat over his shoulders, and slipping his black boots over his feet. The night was still, as though waiting for something. John had never been out in the night, usually sleeping away the night. Yet, the whole thing with Sherlock was keeping him awake.

John hadn't realized he was walking to the tower, until he heard Sherlock yelling out in horrible pain. John felt his feet move faster, jumping over roots and weaving between the trees. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Sherlock, or well it was Sherlock, for 5 seconds. He then grew to the size of the tower, changed into a deep crimson red color, sprouted wings, breathed out smoke, and had glowing gold eyes. John couldn't move, or didn't want to move, in fear of the beastly creature finding him.

When the dragon stretched its wings, and took off into the night, his spiked tail flowing in the wind, it left John unable think. And here he was now, sitting in the grass, doing nothing. He wanted to cry, he wanted to yell, but for what reason? John didn't know, he was too confused. His mind was racing with thoughts, replaying everything that happened.

"There was Sherlock," he said out loud," and then...there was a dragon. My best friend..is a dragon?" John's brain had finally processed everything, and it made him scared. His heart thumped loud in his chest, his breathing ragged. He was finally putting the pieces together, and he was scared. That's why Sherlock was in this tower, that's why he never left it...But when he changed, where did he go? What was the point of the tower, if he could just leave anyways? John began to get annoyed with his criticism. This was his best friend he was thinking about, the man he loved, the man who has told him about a world of isolation- no, a world of desolation.

John was pulling grass out from beside him, his thoughts finally clear. There were no villages nearby, nothing. Maybe that's why Sherlock was here, since there was hardly anything in this area. John's family farm was in the opposite direction the dragon had went, and was hidden underneath the trees which surrounded it. John hoped the dragon never flew over the farm, feeling a sense of guilt as he thought this.

He didn't know how long he sat there, until the sun had begun to rise over the horizon. John felt his breath catch in his throat. When would Sherlock be back? What if he saw John? John felt sadness come from deep within, as though it were eating its way to his heart. He finally had something to hold onto, someone he knew he could trust. Yet that person was a dragon. The word seemed to be singed into his brain. Dragon.

From out of nowhere, John saw a giant shadow cast itself over the tower. John spun, quickly getting up, grass and dirt falling out of his lap. John gaped at the top of the tower, the dragon standing tall on the gray stone. Its claws were grasping the sides of the tower, its head was facing towards the sunrise. John felt his legs began to move backwards, either to get a better look at it, or to make his way back to the trees for a hiding play. The dragon must've heard him, because it began to crawl down the tower, its golden eyes glaring right at John. He felt his heart stop, sweat sliding down his brow as the creature made its way down.

John could smell smoke as the dragon exhaled, his feet automatically stopping. John didn't know why he stopped, but he did. He stood there, waiting for the creature to get closer, waiting for his death.

The ground shook as the dragon reached the bottom of the tower, its large claws unsheathing from the tower as it touched the ground. John stared in fearful awe, the creature stopping 10 feet in front of him. John stood his ground as the dragon examined him, angling its head to look right at John.

"Well, well," John jumped as the dragon opened its mouth to speak, a deep growl of a voice breaking the silence," what do we have here?" The dragon asked, making John's brain race. "Who are you?" It asked slowly, the words like ice in John's ears.

"J-john Watson," he stammered out, his voice was small and shaky," Sherlock? Is...Is that you?" John asked, his brown eyes knitting in confusion.

"Ha!" The dragon laughed, making John jump again. The dragon moved his head side to side, golden eyes glowing, his sharp teeth catching John's full attention. "My name is not Sherlock...My name is Smaug." The dragon held his head up in pride, making John gaze in awe.

"Smaug…" John stated, shifting from one foot from another. "Are-are you going to kill me...Smaug?" John asked, his voice shaking a bit.

"Do you want me to?" The dragon asked back, his voice making John shiver. "Over the centuries, that is the only question anyone has ever asked me….people are very fascinated with death, aren't they?" Smaug looked to the sky, and John saw he was looking at the sun rising over the trees. The dragon quickly turned his gaze back to John, his golden gaze making John want to hide. "Tell me this, John Watson. Did my...'host', tell you about me?"

John shook his head and whispered a 'no'. Smaug chuckled, as though he knew all along.

"Of course he didn't. Maybe he was afraid he would be left alone again, making me his only company." Smaug took one huge step to John, who nearly turned tail, but decided that would be a bad idea. "I must tell you this, John Watson. Over the years, as I lay in slumber within this being. I have noticed, that no one has tried to separate us...I have seen the world, I have killed those who have stood against me, bathing in the blood of war. Yet, as I am now trapped, I know of a world of loneliness...of a world of nothing. Yet, no one...Has bothered to look for any way of seperating us.." His voice was low, and a bit on edge.

"Is there a way to cure both of you? To separate you?" John asked quickly, making Smaug chuckle again.

"No, there is not. If he or I were to die, the other shall perish also. We are connected, we live and breathe together, and one day...we shall die together." Smaug glanced once more to the rising sun, its rays hitting the armor of his body. John gasped as he saw the scales shimmer like glass in the light, and soon the armour began to crack. It cracked and began falling apart, shedding away like water. When pieces of sharp scale hit the ground it shattered into water, making John stand there stunned. Smaug just stared at the sunrise, not moving, just waiting.

Finally, after the final scale had fallen, there was only Sherlock. Normal sized, no claws, no sharp teeth, no wings, and no tail. Just Sherlock, laying in the grass, naked. John didn't hesitate, he rushed to Sherlock's side, kneeling, turning him over on his back. John checked for a pulse, any injuries, anything. Nothing, he was perfectly fine, as though he didn't just revert from being a giant dragon.

"Sherlock," John whispered, running his hand over Sherlock's hair," Sherlock, love. Wake up." John kept repeating his name over and over, hoping for him to wake. After a few minutes Sherlock stirred, his eyes slowly opening. John saw a hint of gold in his eyes, making John shudder at the thought of Smaug.

"John?" Sherlock asked hoarsely, his baritone voice back to normal. His eyes were full of confusion, fear, and most of all guilt. Sherlock sat up, and John shrugged off his coat, covering up Sherlock with it.

"It's okay, i'm here." he cooed, helping Sherlock up," i'm here…" John wasn't sure why he was saying that. maybe to convince himself not to leave right then and there, or for the sake of Sherlock.

Somehow they made it back in the tower, up the never ending steps, and through the secret door. The entire time Sherlock was leaning against John, no words were spoken between the two, the silence becoming unbearable. When they had finally got settled, Sherlock getting some clothes on, and John making a cup of tea for the both of them, Sherlock decided he should talk to John.

"So, I am assuming you…saw." He began, making John laugh in sarcasm. As they sat across from each other, the tension rose in the room.

"Oh yes, I saw Sherlock." John licked his lips, Sherlock's gaze lowering down to them.

"I suppose you want to talk about it then?" Sherlock gazed back up to John's eyes, making John's smile drop a bit.

"Yes. I would actually, I mean.." John sighed out, scooting a bit closer to Sherlock," You turned into a bloody dragon! That...That is a huge secret to keep from me…" John saw Sherlock begin to analyze the situation, his hands coming together under his chin as though he were praying.

"John..It's not really an easy subject to talk about. Would you have like me to say, on the first day we met, 'Oh before you come up and have a cup of tea, fair warning I turn into a dragon.'" Sherlock's deep voice dripped with sarcasm, making John huff out a breath of air.

"Well it would've been nice! I mean, for Christ's sake! I have fallen in love with a man who won't tell me anything! It's as though I pull teeth, just for you to give me some honesty.." John felt like yelling, but he knew it would just make things worse.

"John," Sherlock began, his voice a bit tense," I may be many things, but I am no liar. I have been honest in this relationship…" He stopped himself, realising what he just said.

John scoffed, " Yes, absolutely truthful aren't you?" He licked his lips, Sherlock gazing at them again.

"John…" Sherlock sat up, and leaned forward towards John. "I need you to understand...When I become that thing-"

"Smaug." John cut in, making Sherlock chuckle darkly.

"Yes. When I become...Smaug. I can't control myself. I-I can't do anything, I can only watch...as he kills." John went cold. He never expected Smaug actually killed people, he actually hadn't thought about it. Sherlock wasn't looking at John anymore, and John noticed Sherlock's hands were shaking a bit. John moved closer to Sherlock, placing his hand on his knee.

"You don't need to explain further.." He whispered, trying to soothe Sherlock.

"I-I am sorry John. I didn't mean to hide this from you..I just didn't want to be alone again." Sherlock was staring into John's eyes, giving John all his raw emotion. It made John feel happy and sad at the same time, and he didn't know why.

"I promise you Sherlock, that I will never leave you alone. I will always be here for you...For you, and your fire breath…" Sherlock smiled, and added some comment about how that somehow offends him, which sent them both laughing like idiots. After they calmed down, they somehow ended up staring into each others eyes. No words were spoken, only the tender touching on arms of legs.

"John, I want to spend the day with you...In my bedroom," Sherlock was blushing, making John smile.

"I see, love. I understand." He said softly. John got up, slipping his hand into Sherlock's, leading him upstairs into the dark bedroom.


	4. Wow, what a bad ending

They made it into the bedroom, lips locked together in a heated kiss. John moaned into Sherlock's mouth, and Sherlock took his chance by sliding his tongue into John's mouth. John tensed, the presence of another males tongue in his mouth unnatural to him. John wasn't new to kissing, he wasn't even a virgin, but with Sherlock everything was more intense, more passionate.

They separated, both panting against each other. John lightly pecking Sherlock's lips, John's apparent want noticeable. Sherlock almost shivered under John's light kisses, and soon Sherlock couldn't take it anymore. Sherlock roughly attached his lips to John's, and they stood there snogging. They pawed at one anothers clothing, John taking Sherlock's nightshirt off, somehow without breaking the kiss. And Sherlock had worked off John's trousers, John stepping over them. It was a bit dark in the room, the candles dimly lighting up the place, John pushed Sherlock onto the bed, slowly moving above him.

"John.." Sherlock moaned out, John had broken the kiss, and was now sucking lightly on Sherlock's pale skin. Sherlock was now working the buttons on John's shirt, popping them open until the fabric had fallen to the floor. His hands were roaming all over John's tanned body, and over his battle scar that went through his shoulder. John was now working off Sherlock's pants, tugging them off and tossing them into the pile of forgotten clothes.

"Sherlock...I need you,"John breathed against Sherlock's neck, making Sherlock moan in agreement.

"Oh God, John...Enough words, just do it." Sherlock moaned out, his fingers in the soft sandy brow hair, lightly tugging. Both of them were completely naked, their hardened erections grazing lightly against each other. Sherlock was growing a bit impatient, his wild lusty feelings making his mind go fuzzy. John had flipped Sherlock onto his stomach, lifting his hips up. He spit on his fingers, inserting the digits into the prince who was writhing beneath him.

After a few moments of John scissoring Sherlock, he felt Sherlock begin to shake underneath him. Sherlock; who was holding onto the sheets for dear life, his face buried into his pillow, was moaning and yelling out like a girl. He felt John's hard erection pressed against his leg as John had his way with him, making Sherlock moan out in more pleasure. He was bursting with pleasure, the way John was rubbing his fingers against the one spot that made him see stars, sending him closer to the edge.

Sherlock reached for his weeping erection, causing John to growl as a warning, making Sherlock stop reaching. He removed his fingers from Sherlock's hole, making the prince whimper in disagreement. Without any warning, John quickly lined himself up with Sherlock's hole, his hands on his hips, and slowly pushed himself into the tight flesh.

"Oh God John!" Sherlock cried out, clenching his fist into the sheets.

"Mmm, Sherlock…" John moaned out, he wanted so badly to pound into Sherlock, but restrained himself. The warm heat that was sucking him in made it unbearable, yet he didn't want to move too fast. He had himself under control, and was going to wait for Sherlock to get used to it, but Sherlock just knew how to push his buttons.

"John...Please hurry up and move...I-I can't last longer…" Those words sank into John's brain, quickly processing. He gripped Sherlock's thighs in an iron grip, pulling out and thrusting back into Sherlock hard. John angled himself to where he was hitting Sherlock's sweet spot over and over again, making him moan out made noises like animals, sweating over each other, exchanging heat and bodily fluids, and panting one another's name.

Sherlock was so close to the edge, along with John, who wanted badly to release into the pale body. Sherlock wasted no time in reaching for his erection this time, quickly pumping himself into release. As Sherlock came onto his stomach, his muscles clenched John's thrusts, making John grunt is pleasure. In a few more thrusts John came into Sherlock, both moaning out each others names as he did.

After a few moments John pulled out slowly, breathing a bit hard. He settled himself next to Sherlock, somehow covering both of them up with a blanket. They moved closer together, Sherlock wrapping his arms around John, and John snuggling his head into his chest. The dimly lit room set the mood for slumber, both openly welcoming it with open arms.

"John…" Sherlock said, his hands moving up and down John's back. John grunted in response, too tired from their activities to say anything. "I want to say...I really love you…" Sherlock's voice was low, making John smile into his chest.

"And I love you...Always." He replied, his voice a whisper as sleep was overcoming him. They passed out in each others arms, soft breaths escaping their lips.

Even though Sherlock's curse couldn't be broken, and he still changed every new moon, it didn't matter to John. As long as Sherlock was no longer alone, and Smaug did not try to kill him..It was alright. And they lived happily ever after...

The End  
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"Wait. This ending is horrible." Said the detective over the slim blue book in his hands, making the doctor scowl.

"Now how is that a bad ending?" The doctor asked, making the other roll his eyes in annoyance.

"Who would ever like a story that ends with the two just shagging and not finding a cure? Also, in the beginning. The prince should have trust issues, and not just allow strangers into his tower if he knows he's a man-eating dragon… Maybe he wanted to trick the farmer, and then eat him?" Now it was the doctor's turn to roll his eyes.

"Sherlock, the prince just wanted a friend. And then they fell in love. What's so wrong with that?" He asked.

"John, the fact that this story is so common is what's wrong. Aside from that, the main character who is locked away with a dark secret, and the love interest who will do anything for the other party. It seems so overused…" Sherlock set the book down, making John rub his eyes.

"Well whatever, it was just some story one of my patients wrote for me to congratulate us on our wedding anniversary

"John, the fact they wrote a gay fan fiction about us is highly disturbing. And I am quite concerned about you going back to work with them there." Sherlock stated, his voice was low.

John stretched, yawning a bit."I liked it though. I mean it was very interesting hearing about you turn into a dragon. But, enough about the bloody story, it's getting pretty late, we should get to bed love." John said while he got up from his chair which was across from Sherlock. He extended his left hand, his wedding band shining in the dim light. Sherlock set the small book aside, still grumbling about the story they read.

"Ah yes, tomorrow... Leaving me here with experiments and boredom...No bloody case, nor a dead body. Sounds like fun." John chuckled, as Sherlock complained. He smiled as Sherlock took his hand, their fingers intertwining as they made their way to their bedroom.

"Goodnight Prince." John whispered as they made their way into bed, settling down, and holding each other in a warm embrace.

"Goodnight farmer boy." Whispered back, his thoughts still full of the story. "Dragons," he scoffed, "couldn't he have been a giant bee instead?" He grumbled, John not even replying to his remark. He just snuggled deeper into Sherlock's chest, his arms wrapping tightly around the slender man's waist. Soon they both fell asleep, the soft sounds of their breaths comforting one another as they cuddled.


End file.
